


Better Not Shout, Better Not Cry

by hunted



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Adult Characters (Aged 21 or Older), Aftercare, Age Play, BDSM, Begging, Bodily Fluids, Canon Trans Character, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Costume Kink, Costumes, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Episode Related, Episode: s01e11 Chapter Eleven A Midwinter's Tale, Explicit Sexual Content, Fainting, Fear Play, Future, Future Fic, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Hand Over Mouth, Handcuffs, Impregnation, Impregnation Kink, M/M, Other, Penetration (Front Hole Sex), Post-Canon, Rape Roleplay, Restraints, Rough Sex, Santa Kink, Santaphilic, Sexual Roleplay, Slut Shaming, Somnophilia, Submission, Trans Male Character, and using sex as a coping mechanism for trauma, just a character embracing their youthful side, not to the extent of infant or child age play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted
Summary: Theo has a kink. Robin fulfils it......The author is a trans man. All of the necessary warnings are tagged. Chapter 2 will feature aftercare. Please read the notes. Do not copy this fic to another site, or repost it within AO3. I do not give permission for my writing to be copied.
Relationships: Robin Goodfellow (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)/Theo Putnam
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Better Not Shout, Better Not Cry

**Author's Note:**

> I do not condone sexual assault. This is a fantasy story in which two legal adults consensually explore dark roleplay with one another. I use the word c*nt to describe the trans man's genitals, so if that will trigger your dysphoria, please do not read this story. Additionally, the trans man has an impregnation kink, though he and his partner have taken precautions to avoid this actually occurring.  
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> Please see [this article](https://metro.co.uk/2017/11/29/why-do-half-of-women-have-fantasies-about-being-raped-7099630/) to learn more about the fantasies of cis women. (Obviously trans men are not women, but most sexual fantasy articles are unfortunately cishet-focussed.) People of all genders and sexual orientations experience sexual fantasies. If you are drawn to rough sexual fantasies as a survivor of sexual assault, give [this article](https://www.vice.com/en_au/article/3k5gey/when-rape-survivors-have-rape-antasies) a read. To learn more about characterising trans men appropriately, please see [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475404). Just because I write FTM smut doesn't mean I condone the infantilisation and fetishisation of trans guys. I also write top trans men, as seen in [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857451/chapters/54631726), [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667837), and [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079508/chapters/63431953). Not all trans men are bottoms. Not all trans men are gay.  
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> Certain trans men having masochistic inclinations does not mean a man would ever want to be mistreated outside of roleplay. People who have rape fantasies do not actually want to be raped, nor would the experience of being sexually assaulted be anything like a person's fantasy. In reality, rape is traumatising, exhausting, and debilitating, and I am not disregarding the seriousness of those experiences. The imagined kink of dubious or unconsenting sex draws on an arousing powerlessness which is entirely within a person's control. Without safewords, prior discussion, and mutual consent, rough sex can potentially be dangerous or traumatising. Always remember that fantasies do not equal reality. If you ever intend to bring drugs or alcohol into your kink scene, ensure that the ability of all participants to consent is not impeded. Research BDSM properly before you invite additional risk into sex.

Theo knew that wanting this was probably unhealthy.

He just couldn’t help it. One terrible night had seared itself into his memory like a brand into flesh, leaving a mark he just couldn’t scrub away. It was as if his soul had accepted the permanence of his trauma, invited it to stay, repurposed it for pleasure. If he was going to remember the kidnapping, he might as well enjoy it. The logic was sound, for something so supremely fucked-up. He knew he wasn’t the only one, knew that the eroticism of suffering was a human condition.

He flexed his fingers and clenched his fists, trying to move his arms but finding them pinned in place, leather restraints snug against skin. His heart was sprinting in his chest, humming like a trapped bird against the underside of his ribcage. He lay on his back, wood unyielding and stiff beneath him. He shivered as the salt of fear dampened his skin, fabric clinging to him wetly. He was wearing the same outfit that he had been all those years ago; butter yellow tights and cute red shorts, a white fur trim adorning the neckline of his crimson coat, the tips of his shoes curled.

A poor little elf boy.

He was older now, stubble scruffy on his cheeks and chin, but he shaved down for nights like this one. It was part of his ritual. Confronting that terrible night, owning it through roleplay, running his fingertips over creamy soft skin and thinking about his youth. He shaved his legs and his face, trusting that the hair would grow back in no time, and that this sexual kink didn’t detract from the manhood he had fought so furiously to embody.

He took hallucinogens to enhance the experience. A sweet tea, brewed by Robin himself, made from the leaves of a plant he grew in their garden. Clean, pure, controlled. It sharpened everything, but blurred it at the same time; heightened every sensation and drugged Theo’s brain into sluggish overstimulation, memories all the more powerful and destructive. Rather than squashing down his trauma, burying it under layers of denial and shame, he wanted to feel every second of it, over and over again. Get off to it, fuck even as he cried, delight in his weakness beneath the hand of someone he could truly trust. He hadn't crossed the line, wasn't engaging in the kind of masochistic self harm which he knew could potentially be an issue; they had a safeword, they had limits. But it felt so _good_ to dwell in the darker spaces, to give himself space to be fucked-up. Pretending to be normal and functional got exhausting. He had seen and done things which would make most humans quake with fear, and most of it had occurred when he was still young and baby-faced, asserting his boyishness with a trembling, high-pitched voice. The foundation of his life had been forever altered by Sabrina, by Dorothea, by Greendale itself.

Which left him in this position.

He was panting already, fear and excitement bubbling inside him like poison. Hair was plastered to his sweat-slick forehead. Around him were plastic statues of smiling children, their eyes frozen in jovial grins; real plastic, unlike the poor immobilised children Theo had met so many years ago. Still, senseless with panic and the rush of memories, he could have sworn he saw them blink, saw those eerie smiles growing larger beneath the glow of glittering fairy lights. The room seemed to be spinning, and he struggled, knees locked straight and arms bent, ankles and wrists secured. The pulsing presence of his nightmare grew, surrounding and possessing him, drugs heightening his fear and consequential arousal.

“Help me,” he pleaded, voice scratchy and broken, words escaping his throat in a mangled rush, “Help, someone please,”

Across the room, a movement. Theo’s breath caught, a shocked gasp as he laid eyes on the figure only a few strides away. It was a man dressed in a red suit, with a garish big belt and a crimson hat. He had a full, magnificent white beard, and gloved hands which were hanging patiently by his sides. Theo felt his pulse thrashing against the underside of his skin. Santa Claus, come to punish the naughty boy. Theo was so terrified, and he wanted this so badly. He wanted to yell and flail and beg for mercy, but be taken anyway.

“Mr- Mr Bartel?”

Theo received no answer. The evil Santa stepped forward, and Theo’s fear crested, a tidal wave of sheer terror.

“No- Stay away, stay away from me!”

The demon man continued to approach, eyes glittering with evil intent from beneath the shaggy brim of a festive hat.

“Get away from me, get away-”

In direct defiance of Theo’s every attempt to squirm free, a hand was lifted and lowered with deliberate intent, a palm settling against the inside of Theo’s trembling thigh. The warmth of skin was palpable even through layers of fabric. Heat pulsed in Theo’s groin, the thrill of terror mixing with arousal, like poison stirred through the sweetest hot chocolate. The stranger's face seemed to pulse and glow, monstrous as it shifted in the near-darkness; a salivating grin which made Theo more frightened than he had ever been before.

“Get your hand off me,” he demanded weakly, trying to thrash away, hips uselessly rocking in place, “Stop it, please let me go, please-”

He allowed himself to whimper, allowed tears to bloom in his eyes, blurring his vision even further. His breathing was loud and panicked, like air rushing through a tunnel during a storm. He couldn’t hear himself think, couldn’t pierce the veil of fog which surrounded him like a trap.

“What are you- Mr Bartel, what are y- you doing?”

A gloved hand reached upward, twisting a silver button free of crimson fabric, deftly pinching a zipper between thumb and forefinger and yanking it down. Theo’s panic grew, heart sprinting so fast that it seemed he might burst.

“Stop it, don’t- don’t do that-”

He panted for air as strong, sturdy hands seized his waistband. He was crying, face contorted with fear, cheeks wet with tears. He looked up into the emotionless eyes of the evil Santa, the rest of the creature's face hidden behind a thick white beard and a comically jovial hat. The man pulled his shorts down, forcibly undressing him. His underwear was blue, his thighs were pale and hairless.

“Please- please don’t, please!”

Theo sobbed and shook, fully aware what could come next. He cried hard, eyebrows tugged together into a desperate frown, forehead pinched and strained. Somewhere deep down, he felt good. His soul was nurtured by ability to kick and scream, the freedom to tearfully yell for help, as he hadn't been able to do in the past. When he had been kidnapped originally, the demon hadn't raped him. He couldn't quite say why his brain had interpreted the experience this way, but he thought he knew the reason, at least in part. He had been young then, on the cusp of his sexual awakening, teenage years bleeding into young adulthood. And though the demon hadn't molested him, it had felt like a violation; being manhandled, being strapped down, his body not within his own control. At the time, there had been no arousal. The arousal had come later, during sleepless nights and hormone-rich daydreams, tentative fingers creeping down to seek a guilty pleasure that he couldn't explain. Therapy had helped, but this was his _real_ therapy. This was how he healed. This was how he turned terror into something else, something that he owned.

***

The table creaked rhythmically, the chains connected to the handcuffs clinking in tandem with every brutal thrust inward. A heavy body blanketed Theo's smaller form, his body pale and bare in the semi-darkness. His legs were limp on either side of the larger man's bulk, feet swaying, ankles loose as he was fucked. His hands were still bound above his head, but they weren't clenched now, fingers curled limply.

"Uh, uh, uh," he moaned, the sounds punching free from his body without intent, mind swimming with sluggish arousal, cheeks wet with warm tears. He gazed unseeingly at the ceiling, lips parted. He panted hotly, lashes dipping down low as the drugs properly took hold. He had screamed and resisted when Santa reached down, taking himself in hand, guiding himself between trembling thighs, pushing inside Theo's cunt. But now he just took it, time slipping fluidly around him as he was fucked. He was simultaneously unsure what was being done to him, and more aware than he had ever been in his life. He was stuck in a state of surreality, floating inside his own body, as though it didn't quite belong to him. Everything felt frighteningly intense, but also like a dream.

"S... Uh, _uh,_ f- fuck, st- stop-"

Theo hadn't seen Santa's cock emerge from his crimson outfit, but he felt it now, felt its girth and heft as it plunged in and out of him. He felt so full, flesh pressing snugly against his silky walls, slamming so deep that he quivered to feel it, heat roiling in his belly.

 _"Hush, naughty boy,"_ came a deep, rumbling voice, _"Take your punishment."_

The command seemed to come from a distance, Theo trying to focus on every word but finding that they slipped away like sand through fingers. Santa lifted himself up on thick arms, staring down at Theo, little more than a red-and-white blur against a dark background. Theo gazed blearily upwards, turned on by his own powerlessness, his parted thighs and his violated body, now naked and sweaty where he lay bound to the table. The man fucking him drew his hips back and then suddenly forward again, thrusting deep.

"Hnn- S- Stop-"

Santa laughed, a horrific mockery of the cheerful _ho, ho, ho_ that Theo had once associated with Christmas. He did it again, forcing his cock deep inside Theo's wet cunt.

_"I see you when you're sleeping..."_

"Take it- Take it out-"

_"I know when you're awake..."_

Theo sobbed and whimpered as the sex continued. He could hear himself, hear his body being penetrated so aggressively, the shameful _squelch, squelch, squelch_ which seemed never to end. He panted hard, flat chest rising and falling, rocked back and forth where he was bound.

_"You want your friends to rescue you?"_

"Pl- Please stop-"

_"You want them to see you getting raped?"_

There it was. That terrible, terrible word. _Raped._ Theo shuddered, revulsed and turned on, the push of a thick cock inside his body made even more filthy by that heavy syllable.

"N- No, I- I don't, _ah,_ I can't- Please stop, please take it out...! Mr Bartel...!"

_"Such a precious boy. I usually have to search for humans like you."_

"Ah, ah, st- stop,"

_"But you came to me. You wanted this."_

Theo tossed his head to the side, teeth gritted, squeezing his eyes shut. "I didn-"

_"You did."_

"No-"

_"You like how this feels."_

"No, I don't, I- ah, ah, I... I..."

Theo's voice trailed off, his gasps louder now, every exhale tinged with a heavy moan. He rolled his bottom lip beneath his teeth, biting down, trying to keep from wailing in pleasure.

_"You cannot lie to me, boy. I know the cry of a satisfied virgin when I hear one."_

"Mr... Mr Bartel, pl... please..."

_"Except, you're not a virgin anymore, are you?"_

Theo shivered.

_"That's right. And you will take my seed."_

All of the depraved delights, the horrible things that hid beneath Theo's exterior, were being so ruthlessly dissected. He could feel his orgasm approaching, unstoppable and violent in its intensity. There was nothing quite like being fucked. A toy just couldn't match this experience. He wasn't in control of the cock which slid inside his body, wasn't commanding the movements which broke him down to his very foundations. Someone was on top of him, fucking him hard, and he whispered the name _Mr Bartel,_ conjuring up a flash of sexual pleasure that he'd long ago stopped trying to explain. He was going to come. There was just one more thing he needed.

"Pl- Please don't- _ah,_ fuck, please- don't come inside me, don't-"

_"I'm going to fill you up, little boy."_

"No, no- don't-"

_"You want this."_

"No, no," Theo gasped, "Stop-"

A hand slapped over his mouth, a gloved palm silencing his protests. He wailed against the hand, trying to shake his head and dislodge it, but the evil Santa held on tight, shoving his hips furiously back and forth. He slammed his cock deep inside Theo's cunt, grunting like an animal. The world seemed to shimmer and glow, Theo's tenuous consciousness fluttering in the face of strong emotion and potent drugs.

_"Take it. Take it. Take it!"_

Theo's eyes rolled back in his head, orgasm quivering through him from head to toe, body spasming as he tipped over the edge. He slipped away, falling into the darkness of sleep as Santa thrust inside him with a yell. Hot, plentiful bursts of come exploded inside his body, as he lay limp and unresponsive. 


End file.
